


Star(k) Gazing

by whatthepratt



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Stargazing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-09
Updated: 2016-07-09
Packaged: 2018-07-22 13:37:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7441249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whatthepratt/pseuds/whatthepratt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Steve is blindfolded and dragged helplessly around the tower by Tony. Not as kinky as you’d think.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Star(k) Gazing

“Where are we going?” asked Steve, his woolen socks slipping on the polished floors.

Tony pulled Steve around a corner. “Up.”

 _“Up?”_ Steve chuckled. “Can you give me a little more information than just ‘up’? I’m blindfolded and you’re dragging me around the tower going God knows where. Shouldn't I at least have an idea of what I'm getting into?”

 _“He does have a point, sir.”_ J.A.R.V.I.S. chimed.

“Shush. I know where we’re going.” Tony turned around to smile at Steve, even though he knew he couldn’t see him. “And where that is? It’s a surprise.”

“Oh, okay. A surprise, as opposed to an expected...” Steve's chuckle trailed off with an awkward cough. “Sorry, I lost my train of thought there.” Tony rolled his eyes, and Steve’s heel clapped loudly against the wall. He grunted in pain, and hopped momentarily on one foot, massaging his ankle with his palm. “Can we at least slow down a little?”

“Negative,” Tony muttered, whipping around another corner. Steve’s hip crashed into the wall, and as he groaned, again, Tony’s grip slipped out from between Steve’s fingers.

“Tony, Tony, I’m loose. I’m loose.” Steve bent forwards, his rear sticking out behind him as he groped for Tony’s hands. “Where’d you go?”

“I’m- Here, Steve, right here.” Tony grabbed one of Steve’s flailing arms a little too harshly, and after Steve’s shuffling had subsided, he gave Steve’s hand an affectionate squeeze. “Sorry.”

Steve didn’t reply. Instead, he reached up and took hold of their fists with his remaining hand, squeezing it in return. Christ, Steve would sure laugh if he saw the red spreading across the back of Tony’s neck. Maybe the blindfold wasn’t for nothing, then.

Steve grunted again as another part of his body hit something else in their path. “Can I take this off?” Steve mumbled through gritted teeth. He reached up to take hold of the blindfold, which was just one of Tony’s less-expensive neckties, but Tony slapped his hand away.

“No. We’re almost there.”

“And, where, may I ask again?”

“Uh,” said Tony as he narrowed his eyes at the menacing steps that were approaching rapidly. “Up. Officially. We have to go up a flight of stairs.”

“We have stairs in the tower?” Tony nodded, then, realizing Steve was still blindfolded, cleared his throat.

“Yes, we do. The, uh, fire escape.”

“Fire escape,” Steve repeated, amused, one of the blonde brows that peeked over the necktie cocking ever so slightly. Tony let go of Steve’s hand and swiveled around to gently cup both of his elbows in his palms, helping him creep towards the foot of the steps without having to bang his shins. After a few steps, Steve smirked. “Wait, are we going to the roof?”

“It’s a secret,” Tony muttered quickly, leading Steve around the corner and up the next flight of stairs.

“Oh, come on, is there something waiting for-”

“Secret,” Tony hissed again, giving Steve’s arm a delicate poke with his thumbnail. “Now stop asking where we’re going, or I’ll abandon you and you’ll have to find your way back by yourself.”

“You wouldn’t do that,” Steve laughed, locking his grip on Tony’s forearms, just before the elbow, with his large, soft, _warm_ hands. God, the man had the warmest hands Tony had ever felt. And they were _soft…_ Did he moisturize? Should Tony be moisturizing?

“Why’d we stop?” Steve’s concern pulled Tony back into the real world.

“Oh, sorry, Tony said quickly. “I, uh… I saw a spider.”

“Did you step on it?” Steve sounded concerned.

“No, no, it’s crawling up the wall. I can’t reach it.” Tony cleared his throat again and let go of Steve’s arms. “We’re here!”

Steve reached for the necktie again, but Tony stopped him. “Wait, sorry, no. Wait just a moment.” Tony pushed the exit door open with his elbow and lifted one of his legs onto the higher step to hold it ajar. Straining and hoping the door didn’t crush the both of them, together, pressed against each other, chest-to-chest, pelvis-to-pelvis, both in a classic ‘suck my dick’ pose, for at least a few, beautifully-long seconds, he called for Steve’s grip. Steve extended his arm and Tony delicately took his hand, leading him through the doorway as if he was a prince getting into a carriage.

Steve recognized the action, and said with a tip of his head and in his best British accent, “Thank you, darling.”

“Of course, sir,” Tony puffed out his chest and imitated J.A.R.V.I.S. as best as he could, which, for the record, seemed pretty poor compared to Steve’s, but once Steve let out a chuckle, Tony stuck out his tongue at no one in particular, knowing J.A.R.V.I.S would know it to be directed at him.

And since the AI seemed to understand what he was going for, and snapped a quick reply in Tony’s own voice: _“You’re a dick.”_

“Ha ha,” Tony groaned sarcastically. “Ha.” His face loosened into a grin. “Love you, too, buddy,” he called as he shut the door behind him and stepped onto the roof.

“Can I take the blindfold off, yet?” Steve patience was running thin as Tony led him to the center of the building.

“Almost.” He parked Steve in front of a lawn chair. “Sit.”

“Why?”

“Because there's a chair there and I want you to sit in it.”

“How do I know there's a chair there?” Steve’s lips curled up in a devious smirk.

“Because… It's extremely vital for you to be sitting in this lawn chair, as the surprise would not be surprise-enough without it.” Tony bit his lip. “And if you don't sit down and ruin the surprise, I might cry. Do you want me to cry?”

Steve chuckled, shaking his head, as he reached behind him, groping for the arms of the chair, and eventually lowering himself into the seat. He crossed a leg over the other. “You know,” he began, stopping Tony’s movements mid-stride. “If you just wanted to have blindfolded sex like you always mentioned was a fantasy of yours, you could just-”

“Oh, no, no no no no.” Tony pushed down the blush that bubbled at his cheeks. “No, nothing like that. Not even close. Nope, _nope.”_

“-ask,” Steve finished after Tony’s babbling had ceased. Tony stared at him, star-struck. Steve’s head turned to look at Tony, who assumed he was shooting him a look beneath the necktie. Steve cleared his throat. Finally, he demanded, “Can I take this off now?”

“Oh, yeah, yeah, hold on.”

Tony stepped behind Steve’s chair, fighting the knot in his necktie, and doing his best not to tear out any chunks of Steve’s hair. When the knot was clear, he kept the fabric against Steve’s eyes, and said, “Introducing… The surprise!”

Tony whipped the tie away and Steve blinked hard a few times before taking in his surroundings. He sat opposite a second lawn chair, empty and awaiting Tony’s presence, and between the two was a campfire pit, filled with logs and spitting gorgeous orange flames. Beside the chairs was a pile of heavy blankets, a bag of marshmallows, graham crackers, and a cooler, which, undoubtedly contained the chocolate.

“What's the occasion?”

Tony couldn't tell if Steve was disappointed or confused. Probably a bit of both, right? “No occasion. I just thought it would be nice to have a little campfire on the roof since the rest of the team was on vacation. You know, a little vacation for us.”

Steve peered at him, rubbing his hands together, clearly not convinced. Tony swallowed, pushing back the lump in his throat as Steve spoke. “I'm not buying it. But…” He eyed the bag of marshmallows that were finding their way into his hands, a smirk creeping its way across his face. “I _will_ take a s'more.”

Tony grinned, and popped open the box of graham crackers.

The conversations that followed were filled with buckets of laughter; Tony describing his favourite failed team moments as Steve clutched his stomach and almost fell out of his chair; the duo tapping s'mores together as if they were glasses of champagne, a trick which, as expected, resulted in two deceased sandwiches and left the corner of a blanket burnt; a lively game of charades; a couple of pointless bets; and, of course, a few dozen truth-or-dare’s.

Tony learned two things that evening: one, to never trust Steve with his laundry, as he couldn't figure out the difference between silks and linens and hadn't thought to separate the darks from the lights (which, to be fair, wasn't necessary for Steve’s abominable mix of greys and dark blue tops); and two, that he enjoyed Steve’s company far more than he had expected he would.

It's not like they hadn't gone on every mission together, or lived in the same quarters together, but actually interacting with him, actually _talking_ to him without the distractions of a delicate mission was surprisingly quite nice. He listened when Tony was telling a story, he was patient, respectful, but still made plenty jokes, and he had the most adorable laugh, when he was actually being sincere. It must have been the first time Tony had actually heard him laugh, _really_ laugh from deep in his stomach; Steve had chuckled here and there, sure, but it seemed that Tony’s wacky sense of humour at just the right moment was just enough to send him tumbling out of his seat.

And, of course, when he managed to prop himself upright again, his hair was a complete and adorable mess.

God, Tony was living the life.

Were they close before that night? Somewhat. But now, after several hours of chatter and while sticking his face in an empty marshmallow bag, Tony felt oddly compelled to share with Steve the real reason he had been brought to the roof. After only a few hours of mindless conversation, he felt he could trust the guy with his life. He could tell him anything.

So, he did.

“Hey, uh, Steve?”

Steve’s face was glowing pink from laughter as he wiped away a tear. “Mhm?”

“I have something to show you.”

“Oh, do you?” Steve wiggled his eyebrows.

“Oh, God, Steve,” Tony teased, grabbing the arms of his chair and waddling around the fire pit, carrying his blankets and the cooler with him to settle directly next to Steve. Slipping out from under the covers, he popped the lid off the cooler and poured the ice over the dying flames. “Prepare to be amazed.”

Once the fire was out, the sky lit up-- with the pale light and smog of the city. Steve frowned. “Uh… Is this the surprise?”

“Nope,” Tony grinned, pulling two pairs of clear glasses out of his pocket and handing one to Steve. “This is.”

Once the glasses went on, the sky burst to life, the smog and streetlights of the buildings no longer in the way as constellations glowed and stars flickered with each passing second. The contrast was remarkable and incredibly clear, thanks to the goggles, and Steve gripped the side of his chair, lost for words. He stared up at the sky, mouth gaping and curved into a small smile, his eyes darting to every corner of the world that he could see.

“Tony, I…” Steve trailed off, and scoffed. “This is… _Amazing.”_ His expression hardened for half a second before lighting up again. He turned to look at Tony, his eyes wide with childish wonder. “What was that?”

“What?”

Steve pressed his cheek to Tony’s and pointed to where he had been staring. Tony grunted on impact. “There, right there.” Trailing just in front of Steve’s finger was a small fleck of light. “That thing, that thing moving.”

Tony couldn't contain his amusement. “It's a satellite.” When Steve seemed confused, he began to elaborate. “It's a man-made craft that orbits the Earth in its own track, and they provide radio, television, GPS, weather, and helps researchers track patterns of the planet.”

“Why haven't I heard of these before?”

“Well, the first satellite, a Russian craft called the Sputnik 1, was launched about a decade after you went under.”

A tick in Steve’s expression was there and gone too quickly for Tony to catch. Steve inquired further. “How many are there?”

“Thousands. About 6,000, I think. All from different countries.”

Steve nodded and continued to watch the satellite glide slowly across the sky. Tony glanced over at Steve, who was too captivated by the sky to notice him staring, and took the time to admire his soft features, even though it was almost too dark to see him.

“I used to look at the stars every morning in the military,” Steve whispered. “It's still so fascinating. The only thing that's changed is the air quality.” He wrinkled his nose and turned his head to look at Tony, who's face was only a few beautiful inches away from his, and as his cheeks pulled back in a smile, they both burst out laughing.

Tony slapped his knee and involuntarily dropped his head onto Steve's shoulder. Expecting some sort of harsh response, he tried to lift himself off, but was silenced by Steve’s head leaning against his crown and Steve’s fingers lacing with his own.

“What's this called, again?” Steve asked after a soft pause.

“Cuddling?” Tony suggested with a grin.

“No,” Steve laughed, squeezing Tony’s hand. “Looking at the sky.”

“Stargazing?” Tony tried again.

“Did you say _‘Stark gazing?”_ Steve exhaled sharply through his nose.

“No, I said _stargazing.”_ Tony grinned as Steve snorted with laughter. “Jesus, Rogers, I'm not _that_ self-obsessed.”

Steve glazed the back of Tony’s hand with his thumb. “Fair point,” he grinned, watching the sky as Tony’s eyes fluttered closed.

… Well, maybe Tony learned a third thing that night.

Not only was Steve Rogers the person who appreciated his company the most, and not only did he need a lesson in laundry, but he was, by far, the best at Star(k) gazing.


End file.
